


Why Are You in my Yard Talking to my Flowers at Six in the Morning

by Trefoil_9



Series: Undertale Flash Fictions [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asgore is your neighbor and you're not sure what to make of him, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, Random Fluff, Reader-Insert, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trefoil_9/pseuds/Trefoil_9
Summary: You're trying to sleep in but someone's in your yard asking if he can water your sad neglected flowers. What...?





	Why Are You in my Yard Talking to my Flowers at Six in the Morning

It was Saturday morning, and your plans consisted of: 1) sleep in as late as humanly possible, 2) do laundry, 3) take a nap, and 4) do some work. Maybe. Probably not all in that order. But your plans were interrupted right at the start by a sound of humming beneath your window.

You looked at the clock, just visible in the grey light of the early, early morning. It was six in the morning. Who gets up at six in the morning on a Saturday, and hums in other people’s front yards? To be fair, you didn’t have much of a yard, the sound was probably coming from the sidewalk… no, that was too far away, unless this person was really _really_ loud. They were in your yard, for some reason. Humming. You began to feel suspicious, and almost, grudgingly, awake. What on earth could they possibly be doing?

…Your bed was so warm and you were so relaxed, maybe they’d just go away. It’d be fine…

The humming did not go away. It turned into… talking. Casual, affectionate talking in a low voice. Was someone Skyping a friend from directly under your window? At six? In the morning? On a Saturday? Why??

You slid out of bed and made a face as you walked across the cold, hard floor and heaved the window open, first checking that someone didn’t have a gun aimed at your face. No, it was… a monster…? bent over on the ground. Oh geez was someone injured in your front yard??

…No. He was fine.

“Hello there, you need water, yes you do!” he mumbled, hunched over with his face in a scruffy border of dying flowers.  
He kept talking to the flowers, and appeared to be searching your yard for something. When he noticed the garden hose rolled up by the steps he made a pleased noise and began unwinding it.  
…Okay, so you didn’t take care of your yard. (It wasn’t much of a yard in the first place.) But you were a little insulted that some random monster dude was so concerned about the plants in your yard, evidently, that he would turn up to water the grass at six in the morning while you were asleep.  
“Hey,” you called, hoarsely and grouchily. The monster looked up and dropped a loop of hose. He was… some sort of goat, with huge horns, golden hair—but white fur—and fangs. He was wearing a pink Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. What….  
“Oh, howdy!” he said, smiling warmly, and not at all as if he’d just been caught messing around with someone else’s stuff in someone else’s yard at an ungodly hour of the morning.  
“I was just admiring your garden.”  
“…It’s uh… It needs work,” you said, brain ringing with the violent wrongness of the words ‘admiring’ and ‘garden’ when used in relation to your tiny, dead yard.  
“It just needs a little care,” he said. “Do you mind if I water the flowers?” he held up the hose and smiled disingenuously up at you. Your sleep-muddled brain could not quite process what was happening but you weren’t sure how to tell him to go away.  
“Sure.”  
The hose turned on. You flopped back into bed, but as the splashing sounds continued, you realized that you were too confused by what was going on outside to really go back to sleep. Who the hell was this guy?

You slid back out of bed and shrugged on some more presentable clothes, then went down to the kitchen, which had a window from which you could better watch what was going on outside. The monster, to your surprise, had located a trowel (did you even own a trowel??) and was using it to separate out and relocate some plants, humming all the while.

…You weren’t sure exactly what he was doing but your yard getting more attention than it ever had in your time there. Should you offer him breakfast? You were up anyway.

You… didn’t have food in the house.

Gosh diddly darn.

You brushed your hair, grabbed your wallet and sprinted out the back door and down the street to a convenience store, where you bought frozen pastries; brought them back and put them in the oven to heat up. You did have an impressive assortment of teas, hopefully he liked tea. 

You poked your head outside to check on the monster. He appeared to be done with whatever he’d been doing. His knees and shins were streaked with mud, and his hands appeared to have turned into large wet clods. But he was smiling a satisfied smile at the now-neat border of flowers, which—contrary to the laws of physics, you thought—were already looking a little brighter and happier, as if his touch was just what they needed to grow. (Did you just use the word ‘happy’ to describe the flowers?)  
“Oh wow,” you said. “That looks so much better! Thank you.”  
The monster shook some of the dirt from his large pawlike hands, chuckling.  
“Oh, it’s nothing, flowers just like a little attention sometimes. They’re like people that way.”  
“Uh, would you like to come in and clean up? Also I made extra breakfast if you’d like to stay.”  
“Oh, I… I should wash up before I go.”

You easily convinced him to stay by showing him the tray of pastries. As it turned out, he did like tea, quite a lot actually. By the time you had resigned yourself to being awake you had decided that you liked your new friend (and neighbor, as it turned out; he lived down the street). His name was Asgore.


End file.
